


You're Only Making It Worse

by ka_tsu_ra



Series: We Two Boys Together Clinging [1]
Category: Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger, Super Sentai Series
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ka_tsu_ra/pseuds/ka_tsu_ra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The pirate concealed illness and injury like a dog."<br/>Joe doesn't know Marvelous that well yet, but he's noticed a definite stubborn streak. When the captain's insistence on being perceived as invulnerable lands him in bed with a developing case of pneumonia, Joe's got two things to do: Get him out of danger, and lay down the law on what it means to have his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Only Making It Worse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [labicheramure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/labicheramure/gifts), [aquabluejay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquabluejay/gifts).



> Ha-chah!! ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/ I wrote something sorta sweet to make up for the bucket of sadness I just dumped on people with ADTG. This is the first in a series of one-shot stories set when Joe and Marv were the only (non-robot) crew aboard the Galleon. It contains no romance, but there's allusions to awkward developing spaceteen crushes. I've dedicated it to labicheramure, who is my regular pre-reader and a great fan of Marvelous in any kind of distress, and to aquabluejay as thanks for adapting another of my stories to audio format. Y'all are excellent.
> 
> Oh, and the series title is from the title of a (public domain) poem I'll include at the end.
> 
> Later~

The pirate concealed illness and injury like a dog. It was a pattern of behavior so often in their two months aboard that it surprised Joe very little to find him in the state he did that afternoon. Leaning in the doorway to the galley, head lolled to rest on the molding, Marvelous took in hard and shallow breaths that rasped through pale lips. He looked like a man dredged up in the midst of drowning.

It shouldn't have surprised Joe even the little bit it did. He'd observed the way Marvelous sequestered himself to his cabin when he was hurting after a hard fight, had seen how he'd wear long clothes to cover the bandages he almost always insisted on applying himself. As if not seeing them would allow Joe to forget Marvelous was hurt at all. Marvelous had done plenty of hiding the past couple weeks. He'd eaten less than normal, too, which Joe would eventually come to recognize as a sign of serious trouble.

Joe ducked under the line they'd strung across the room to dry their shirts and came within arm's length of Marvelous, who didn't look his way. He wasn't looking at anything. The dazed middle-distance stare was, in Joe's experience, a way worse sign than the breathing.

“Hey,” Joe said, brusquely. Marvelous didn't like – or didn't accept – outright gestures of gentleness. If Joe wanted answers or cooperation, it worked best to be a little aloof.

Marvelous' gaze snapped into focus and settled on Joe's face. He smiled – bared his teeth, really – and tried to push off from the door jamb. Joe caught him on instinct alone, arms snapping out to heft him as he slumped into his chest. Marvelous was heavy, limp, and very warm.

“Get off.” Marvelous slurred the words and planted a hand on Joe's chest to shove him away.

Joe let him slip his grip and teeter for a moment before moving to grab him again. He held him hard. It wouldn't do him any good to fall over and crack his idiot head on the table, as much as he'd deserve it. Holding him, it was too easy to hear the disconcerting rattle in his breath. He slung Marvelous' arm across his shoulders to support him and half dragged him to the couch.

Marvelous fell into place without resistance, like a sack of potatoes. He lay there for a second before he tried to prop himself up again, glowering. “You-”

“Don't you dare.” Joe shoved him right back down. “How long have you been sick?”

Marvelous shrugged, or maybe he just squirmed.

“Whatever.” Joe nudged the coffee table aside so he could crouch by the sofa and lay the back of his hand against Marvelous' forehead. He didn't have to, really, but it made his intentions clear without him having to speak them. “You're gonna cook under that coat. Take it off.”

Marvelous levered himself with a little effort and shucked off his coat. Joe picked it up and folded it out of habit while Marvelous lied back down. His face stood out worryingly pale against the dark leather of the sofa. His eyes lost focus again.

Before anything – especially before arguing – the fever would have to come down. Joe set Marvelous' coat aside and unceremoniously unlaced and tugged off his boots. Marvelous only kicked at him a little, either as a cursory warning or because he didn't have the strength and coordination to do much else.

“Don't move,” Joe said as he rose. He didn't expect Marvelous to try.

Joe didn't often have reason to raid the ship's medicine chest. He'd rifled through it once for sedatives very early on and, after several minutes of indecision, returned to his bed without them. Still, he knew generally what ought to be there and what of that he could use. He found and pocketed the fever reducers before he noticed the near-empty package of cough suppressants crammed way in the back. That explained neatly (and to Joe's great annoyance) how Marvelous had kept up the healthy act. He pocketed that, too, for later argument purposes.

When he crossed the common room again to reach the galley, Joe found Marvelous had propped himself up on the arm of the couch in an attempt to look nonchalant. Joe didn't acknowledge him. He had work to do.

In the galley, his hands started to shake. He suppressed the tremor and made himself work, went to the freezer for ice and filled the largest and cleanest bowl they had with that and plenty of water from the tap.

Though Joe's hands were still, his mind spun on. Joe was no medic – he'd only been a proper soldier for a day – but even he knew that a fever like this could be a serious danger if it didn't come down. Worse, they were out in dead space. It would be different if they were in a system, if they were near a friendly station, anything, anywhere Joe could find them a doctor. Joe was no medic, he'd barely even been a soldier, he was hardly a pirate, and now he-

The tremor returned, and he shut the thoughts down. Worrying wouldn't accomplish anything. He slung a couple of the thin kitchen towels over his shoulder and brought the whole mess to the coffee table. Marvelous watched him arrange his assembled items on the table and himself on the floor by the couch. He looked a bit more alert, which was comforting.

“Do you feel cold at all?”

Marvelous narrowed his eyes and made Joe wait a long moment before replying, “Kinda.”

Joe nodded and picked at the finicky packaging for the medicine. “Your brain's telling your body it's cold so it'll get hot and kill whatever's making you sick.”

“I know how fevers work,” Marvelous said. He accepted the pills and downed them without even asking for water.

Joe grunted. “Let's talk about what you do and don't know later.”

“Whatever.” Marvelous slid back into a lying position and slung one arm over his eyes. “Don't even...” He trailed off and took a few shallow breaths.

Joe's hands moved automatically to the collar of Marvelous' shirt, to the next task. Medicine alone wouldn't work fast enough. “This has to come off.”

“Sure. Fine.” Marvelous sat up and Joe allowed him to 'help' unbutton his shirt before he fell back down again.

Pale and clammy, without his shirt or his coat, Marvelous looked so small that it twisted Joe's stomach. Marvelous was his savior, he was his captain, but he was far from invulnerable. He could die. No one was invulnerable, Joe knew that and the knowledge was a raw thing in side him, but the reminder hit him hard.

“Hey.” Marvelous' voice snapped him back to the present, out of the terrible past and the uncertain future. He'd uncovered his eyes to take in Joe's fallen face. “You gonna stare at me, or get me something to eat?”

“Ah. Sorry. I got lost in thought for a second.” Joe let his gaze drop to the floor and glide over to the bowl and the towels. He wadded up one of the hand towels, dipped it, and wrung it out. “Is this okay?”

Marvelous settled deeper in the couch, folding his arms. “Is what okay? I told you food.”

“This.” Joe touched the cold cloth to Marvelous' shoulder and Marvelous flinched. “Is it all right?”

Sometimes it was fine to touch Marvelous' skin to treat him, other times it was decidedly not. Until Joe determined a pattern, he would ask.

Marvelous huffed and the sound became a cough that had him sitting up and clamping a hand over his mouth. It didn't last long, but when it was done Marvelous flicked his hand to send a gob of _something_ whizzing across the room. Joe cringed and Marvelous, unfazed by his disapproval, reclined again.

“Do what you want,” Marvelous said, his voice now syrup-thick. 

Joe swallowed his objections that this wasn't what he wanted, that this was necessary and functional. It wouldn't matter to Marvelous. Joe was inconveniencing him by keeping him from sleep and food and no excuse would suffice. He just set himself to the task of wiping down Marvelous' neck and arms and chest. Marvelous, miraculously, didn't worm around or swing at him.

It was hard not to look at him, and Joe did try. For all his skill in battle, Marvelous bore very few scars to suggest a life spent learning. One on his left side, an ovoid shape with dark edges, might have started as a burn. Another, a newer and darker scar on the inside of his right arm, Marvelous moved to cover the instant he noticed Joe eying it. That didn't matter. Joe didn't need to know everything about Marvelous. There were times he didn't want to know everything.

“You know I'm not a baby,” Marvelous said suddenly. “I can do this stuff myself.”

Joe raised his eyebrows and dropped the cloth on Marvelous' chest. “Feeling up to that level of coordination?”

“Shut up,” Marvelous muttered. The color had returned to his face, so maybe he was feeling better after all. He grabbed the towel and scrubbed at himself. “Never asked you anyway.”

Joe repressed a smile. “If you're feeling that spry, get up and get to bed.”

“Up here's fine,” Marvelous said. He tossed the cloth into the bowl and water splashed on the table. “Lets me keep an eye on things.”

“If you think I'm bringing you pillows and a blanket and who knows what else so you can camp on the couch and supervise, your brain's already cooked.” Joe reached for Marvelous' wrist and took it when Marvelous didn't reel back or smack him. “Come on. I've got your back, right? Can't have you tripping down the stairs.”

Marvelous let Joe pull him up. “Guess not.” He took a deep breath, coughed, and covered his face. “Ah. Hot now.”

“That's good.” Joe limped him over to the stairs down to the cabins and tried not to hold him too hard as they descended. “The medicine's working fast.”

Marvelous nodded on him. His breathing was still slow and shallow and thick, but with the fever coming down he ought to be all right. Joe reminded himself of that every other step to Marvelous' cabin, until he had Marvelous laid out in bed. Whether it was fatigue or rare silent compliance that kept Marvelous still while Joe unfolded a sheet over him, Joe really didn't care.

“Don't kick the sheet off or get under the other blankets.” Joe put his Mobirate on the bedside table and tapped it so Marvelous would turn and notice it. “And don't shout if you need anything. Use that.”

“Mm.” Marvelous shut his eyes and sunk back into his pillow. “M'fine. Just gonna sleep. Don't worry.”

Joe couldn't help but worry. Of course, he couldn't exactly say that. How do you tell someone you barely know you're terrified to lose him? He swallowed the words and brought others up.

“You do that. I'm gonna start on dinner. You recover faster the more you eat anyway.”

The bird – Navi, Joe had to remind himself, because Marvelous never seemed to call her by name – was waiting on the back of Marvelous' chair when Joe emerged into the common room. She raised her wings once, maybe as a greeting, maybe as a shrug. She wasn't exactly well articulated as far as robots went.

“I'm sorry, Joe,” she said, lifting off to come hover by his head. “He told me not to say anything. I didn't know it would get this bad. I'm really, really sorry.”

“Forget about it,” Joe said, disguising his surprise. Most robots wouldn't bother with apologies, not that he knew of, but Navi was... different. Wherever Marvelous got her, they made a different kind of robot altogether. He ducked under her and weaved through the room to the galley. “He'll do what he wants no matter what you do, so I can't blame you for just going along with his arrogant crap.”

“Hey now, hey!” Navi perched on the top of the cupboard door when Joe opened it and chattered at the top of his head while he rummaged for a clean pot. “It's not about arrogance, it-”

She had to flutter off when he slammed the door, and came to light on a counter across the room, out of his reach.

“What's it about, then, all this trying to convince me he's invincible?” Joe asked as he clanged the pot into the sink and cranked on the tap to fill it.

Navi made what counted for a thoughtful sound in her shrill, tinny voice. “Don't tell him I told you, got it?”

“Fine.” Another decisive clang as he set the pot on the stove.

“He told me you've got enough on your mind,” Navi said. She chanced coming closer while he was busy snapping carrots in half and tossing them into the pot. “He squeezed me real hard when he said it, too.”

Something tight and sore in Joe unraveled just a little, hearing that. It didn't ease the soreness, just let it bleed for a while.

***

Marvelous woke up coughing. His first instinct was to lean over the side of the bed so he didn't choke, one hand clapped over his mouth. It lasted a while, so long that his chest started to ache, and toward the end of it Joe came thundering down the stairs and into his cabin. Marvelous' eyes were shut, but he knew it was Joe because who else would it be? He was still too wrapped up in clearing his chest without completely losing oxygen to complain when Joe pressed a cloth into his free hand and started rubbing his back like he was a little kid.

When he could breathe again, he spat into and wiped his hands on what turned out to be Joe's handkerchief and balled it up on his bedside table. Pinprick dots floated across his vision. His eyes felt damp. Great, just great.

“That's what you get for taking these when you should have been resting.” Joe flicked a familiar package, totally empty, onto the bed. Marvelous turned his nose up at it and said nothing. “Anyway. Are you hungry?”

Marvelous flopped backward onto his pillow and sighed. If Joe wasn't gonna get pushy about the medicine thing, that was enough. “Yeah.”

He drifted off again while Joe slipped out of the room and sat up abruptly when Joe returned. The smell of food, not any sound, roused him. It smelled good. Really, really good. Joe could only cook a few dishes, but what he did cook was good. And Marvelous couldn't cook at all, so any freshly made food was a treasure on its own.

“Don't eat too fast, you'll cough and choke,” Joe said as he set the tray over Marvelous' lap. “I've got some real medicine for you after you eat, too. Ought to take care of whatever infection you wound up inviting.”

“Sure, sure,” Marvelous said, surveying the offerings. A big bowl of dark soup full of vegetable chunks and shredded meat, and a huge wedge of the bread that made up the bulk of what Marvelous had seen of Joe's cooking skills. He smiled to himself and tucked into his meal.

Marvelous liked sweets, chocolate especially, but copious amounts of hot, savory foods – especially with meat – made him feel warm and safe. The safe warmth worked through him as he ate, and before long he was soothed and present enough to realize Joe hadn't left yet. He hadn't even moved from his bedside.

He swallowed a big bite that scratched his sore throat in a satisfying way and eyed Joe. “There's a chair you can sit in, y'know.”

“I know.” Joe pulled it out from the desk and settled in it. Marvelous took him in. He looked tired. The rim of his eyes were pink.

Marvelous looked back to his meal before Joe could notice his lingering gaze. “I'm not just gonna die on you. Just so you know.”

The chair creaked under Joe's shifting weight. “Let's not talk about who's gonna die and when,” he said. “Just make a deal with me.”

Marvelous was already scraping the bottom of his bowl. “Depends on the deal.”

“When something's wrong, tell me. I can't watch your back if I never know whether or not you need me.”

Marvelous bristled at the word 'need.' It still stung so bad to think about needing anybody. He shrugged it off. “Didn't think it was serious. It got outta hand. It won't happen again.”

“Make sure it doesn't.” The chair creaked again and Joe leaned over Marvelous. Without warning, he swept the hair back from Marvelous' face and touched foreheads with him. Marvelous' throat pinched itself shut and warmth flooded to his face. Then, Joe leaned back. “The fever's gone. If it stays down, you might only be stuck down here for a couple of days.”

Marvelous tore off a chunk of bread crust with his teeth and scowled. He pouted, really. “Guess you'll be watching my back pretty close from now on, huh?”

“As close as you'll let me.” Joe patted his shoulder and returned the chair. “Take a shower when you finish eating. You'll be pretty ripe if you sleep in all that sweat.”

Marvelous leaned back and let his head loll to one side so he could watch Joe leave. A smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth. It might be nice, he allowed himself to think, if the guy watching his back was someone he could lean on from time to time. It might.

 

**Author's Note:**

> We two boys together clinging,  
> One the other never leaving,  
> Up and down the roads going—North and South excursions making,  
> Power enjoying—elbows stretching—fingers clutching,  
> Arm’d and fearless—eating, drinking, sleeping, loving,  
> No law less than ourselves owning—sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening,  
> Misers, menials, priests alarming—air breathing, water drinking, on the turf or the sea-beach dancing,  
> Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,  
> Fulfilling our foray.  
> -Walt Whitman


End file.
